


Us Kids From Brooklyn

by emphasisonem



Series: Less Than Professional [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky's a massage therapist, Fluff, Little bit of smut, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Steve is an injured baseball player, They are into each other, mild pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 12:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7977469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emphasisonem/pseuds/emphasisonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky’s been a masseuse for ten years now; he’s been working at his friend Natasha’s place - Tasha’s Massage Therapy - in Chicago for almost five of those years. He’s damn good at what he does, so he’s not worried that he’ll screw up or anything.</p><p>But it would have been fucking swell for his friend to mention that the new client she’d pinned him with is a goddamn major league pitcher on whom Bucky has had a massive crush for years. </p><p> <b>In which Steve is a professional pitcher dealing with an injury, Bucky is a masseuse and Natasha is consistently amused.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Us Kids From Brooklyn

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been dealing with a block and several people were kind enough to oblige me with prompts for oneshots to try to overcome said block. This is one of them, and I kind of dig how it turned out. I'm working on a couple of others as well, and as soon as they're done, I think I'll be able to get back on track with the in-progress stuff. As always, thank you for your patience, and a big thank you to the lovely tumblr user who requested Bucky as a masseuse and Steve as a client. You're great :)

Bucky’s pretty sure he’s going to faint when he walks into his first appointment on a Friday morning in late August and sees _the_ Steve Rogers sitting there on the table.

Bucky’s been a masseuse for ten years now; he’s been working at his friend Natasha’s place - Tasha’s Massage Therapy - in Chicago for almost five of those years. He’s damn good at what he does, so he’s not worried that he’ll screw up or anything.

But it would have been fucking swell for his friend to mention that the new client she’d pinned him with is a goddamn major league pitcher on whom Bucky has had a massive crush for years.

“I’d take him myself since he’s a friend of mine,” Natasha had said with a cryptic smirk that Bucky should have known meant trouble. “But Steve’s an athlete and you’re the one licensed for sports massage therapy.”

 _It’s fine,_ Bucky reassures himself as he exhales slowly, plastering a smile onto his face as he enters the room. _You’re gonna be a consummate professional, just like you always are._

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers,” Bucky smiles as he walks into the room. “My name’s Bucky, and I’m going to be your massage therapist today. Before we get started, is there anything I should know?”

Of course, Bucky already knows that Rogers is recovering from rotator cuff surgery. It had been all over sports news for weeks when the blond had left in the second inning of the All-Star game, gripping his shoulder and grimacing, but Bucky’s going to do his damndest not to come off like the nerdy baseball fan he is.

“Hi Bucky,” Steve smiles, and wow, Bucky’s seen him turn up the charm that way in post-game interviews, but it is something else entirely in real life. The guy’s grin is disarming and genuine, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners, and _Christ_ he’s so handsome Bucky might die. “You can call me Steve, since I guess we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other. Nat said you were the best guy here for anyone with sports-related injuries. I’m a baseball player and I’m recovering from shoulder surgery. Torn rotator cuff. I’m out for the rest of the season and just trying to get back into fighting shape before the next.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Bucky offers a sympathetic smile because he really _is_ sorry. Steve Rogers is among the best young talent in the MLB and a torn rotator cuff makes for a wildly uncertain future. Rogers had been a Cy Young Award favorite for the National League before the All-Star break, and now he’s listening to a bunch of blowhards on ESPN debate whether or not he’ll ever be the same pitcher he was before the injury. Unfortunately, it’s very much up for debate.

“I think I can help ease some of the pain and tension in that area of your body,” Bucky continues. “If you’ll undress to your level of comfort, we can go ahead and get started.”

Steve waits, watching Bucky for a moment before his smile morphs into a smirk, lovely eyes dancing with amusement. “Do you mind?”

“Oh,” Bucky can feel his face heating up and curses himself internally as he turns away from his new client. “Shit, sorry. Guess the coffee I had before I came in hasn’t kicked in just yet.”

Steve’s laugh is throaty and deep and Bucky _really_ likes it. This guy’s going to be a problem. “No worries, pal. Happens to the best of us. Ready when you are.”

When Bucky turns, Steve is lying down on the table under the white sheet provided to customers. He rests his chin on crossed arms, looking up at Bucky through long, dark lashes. Bucky’s knees _do_ _not_ buckle at the sight of Steve’s bare broad shoulders and well-defined back muscles, and he definitely _does not_ think about all the things he’d rather do with Steve in this position than give him a massage.

“Ok,” Bucky smiles. “I’m going to start at your lower back and work my way up, finishing with your injured shoulder. Tell me if you feel any pain or discomfort.”

“Will do,” Steve replies, settling in as Bucky goes to work.

Bucky’s surprised at how easy this is, how quickly he loses himself in kneading at Steve’s flesh. He’s gentle, yet firm, paying attention to Steve’s muscles beneath his fingertips, noting the soft sighs that escape the blond now and again as he works out all the knots. The only time Bucky needs to remind himself that he’s at work is when a breathy moan escapes Steve as Bucky begins to work his left shoulder.

“All right?” Bucky asks softly, pausing for a moment as he tries to collect himself.

“Yeah, perfect,” Steve groans. “Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you. It felt really good.”

“Good,” Bucky replies as he goes back to massaging Steve’s shoulder. After another ten minutes, he steps back and Steve looks up. “All finished now.”

Bucky turns so Steve can pull his clothes back on, startling slightly when he feels a tentative tap on his shoulder. When he turns, Steve’s there with a small smile on his face.

“You’re a damn miracle worker,” the blond grins, running a hand through his short hair, mussing it slightly, and that is just beyond unfair, Bucky thinks. “Shoulder hasn’t felt this loose in ages.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go overdoing anything just because it feels better right now,” Bucky quips with a smile. “It takes time for these things to heal; I’ve dealt with plenty of rotator cuff injuries before and it doesn’t take much to reinjure it at first.”

“Yes, mom,” Steve chuckles, eyes alight with mischief. “You know, at the beginning  of this appointment, I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

“I’m aware of you,” Bucky hedges cautiously, taking a step back at Steve moves into his personal space.

“I know that now,” Steve’s smile is almost predatory, and Bucky could swear that the man’s gorgeous eyes follow the motion of his throat as he swallows. “I think you might even be a fan.”

“What, uh, what gives you that idea?” Bucky stammers with a shy smile.

“Never told you which shoulder was injured,” Steve replies. “But you knew it was the left. Dunno if a casual baseball fan would have known that.”

“Kinda hard not to root for a kid from the same neighborhood in Brooklyn where I grew up who can pitch a hundred-mile-per-hour fastball, Steve,” Bucky chuckles, wringing his hands as he looks down. Steve takes one of Bucky’s hands, shaking it, and Bucky never wants to let go. Steve’s palm is broad and warm and feels so nice against his skin.

“Gotta stick together, right?” Steve grins. “Us kids from Brooklyn.”

Bucky nods, not trusting his voice at all as Steve’s eyes search his face, intense and inscrutable. Then he drops Bucky’s hand and steps back.

“Well, thank you, Bucky,” Steve says with a sly smile. “That was a great first appointment, and I look forward to coming back. I think you’re going to make this recovery _much_ more enjoyable.”

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky huffs out a laugh as he tries to ignore the heat pooling low in his gut at Steve’s suggestive tone. “You’re welcome, Steve. Look forward to helping you through it.”

Bucky waits until Steve exits the room before slumping into a chair, dropping his head into his hands and breathing deeply.

“Fuck me,” Bucky whispers. “This is going to be impossible.”

 

* * *

 

Natasha’s up at the front desk sorting through a scheduling conflict with the new receptionist when Steve walks out into the waiting room.

“Rogers!” Natasha calls, walking around the desk to embrace her friend. “How was the first appointment? Bucky’s great right?”

“It was wonderful,” Steve smiles. “You weren’t kidding; he’s fucking incredible. And you were right.”

“About what?” Natasha grins up at him, hands on her hips, and Steve laughs.

“He’s very cute,” Steve grins, winking as he heads for the front entrance. “I’ll see ya ‘round, Tasha.”

Natasha can’t help the stupid smile from spreading across her face. She knows Bucky’s been crushing on Steve for years now, but she’d never mentioned knowing him. She’s always hated name-dropping, and she figured the two would meet eventually when Steve was traded from the New York Mets to the Chicago Cubs halfway through last season.

Natasha’s glad to see Steve so chipper today considering he’d sounded on the verge of tears when he’d called her earlier this week asking for a recommendation for a massage therapist with experience dealing with rotator cuff injuries. She’d looked up this shoulder business when they’d ended the call, and she could see why Steve was distraught. This injury is a potential career-ender for Steve and he’s only 26 years old. Natasha can’t begin to understand that kind of stress.

Bucky does tend to have a soothing, pleasing presence, though. That’s one thing that makes him such an asset.

Natasha smiles when Bucky walks out into the main office, a scowl gracing his handsome features.

“I just want you to know, you’re dead to me,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting like a kindergartner.

Bucky’s pout deepens as Natasha throws back her head and laughs, high and clear. The brunet might be acting grumpy, but she knows those stormy eyes of his well enough to be sure she’s not in any real trouble.

“You’d have been a nervous wreck if I’d told you who the client was,” Natasha smiles, walking over and running a soothing hand along Bucky’s upper arm. “I didn’t want you getting all worked up. You’re better at keeping your cool under pressure when you’re surprised.”

“You’re the worst,” Bucky mumbles, but he’s grinning at her now. “I was not prepared for him to be so damn handsome in real life.”

“Few people are,” Natasha giggles. “Come on, let’s head over to that coffee shop around the corner you love so much. I know you need at least two cups in the morning, and I guess I kind of owe you one.”

Bucky just nods with a smile and follows her out the door.

 

* * *

 

Steve thinks the most challenging part of his recovery process is keeping his cool as Bucky’s hands begin their work at the beginning of each session. It’s gotten more difficult with each progressive appointment.

Because it turns out that Bucky is not only devastatingly sexy with his long, dark hair and his big gray eyes and his lean frame. He’s also sweet and funny and adorably shy at times. Steve wants to take him out, spoil him rotten and get him into bed in the worst way. But Steve is nothing if not a patient man, especially since he has it on good authority that Bucky’s into him. That authority being Natasha.

The first time Steve manages to shake Bucky out of his professional shell and really get him talking is when he makes an offhand comment about the fact that he probably wouldn’t have won the Cy Young this year anyway. Too many contenders with better records.

“You’re kidding, right?” Bucky’s hands are still firm and gentle and steady, but his voice is outraged, and Steve has to struggle not to laugh. “I swear to god, Rogers, if I didn’t know better from Natasha, I’d assume that’s some gross false modesty. You’re fucking _incredible_.”

“You think so?” Steve grins, secure in the knowledge that Bucky can’t see his face as he kneads Steve’s muscles.

“What was your record before the injury?” Bucky asks, and Steve waits because he’s fairly sure Bucky’s going to answer the question himself. “Like 17 wins in 24 appearances, right? Not responsible for any losses. Your ERA was 1.75 for fuck’s sake. Your strikeout percentage is _insane_. You’re going to be a Hall of Famer someday, Steve.”

“Wouldn’t bet on that now,” Steve replies, annoyed by the bitterness in his tone. He’s been doing a good job of staying positive about his situation, but he knows the odds. Even if his shoulder does heal properly, his range of motion probably won’t be what it was. He’s going to need to work on his off-speed pitches if he returns to playing because that fastball of his might be a thing of the past.

“Hey,” Bucky’s voice is soft, yet firm. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going back and you’re going to be great. Understood?”

Steve exhales a laugh. “Yeah, understood.”

Even after that, getting information out of Bucky about himself is like pulling teeth, but it’s a teensy bit easier. Steve learns that Bucky grew up in Brooklyn, that he’s 29 years old and that he’d moved out to Chicago after severing ties with an awful ex-boyfriend in an effort to start fresh in a new city.

“That’s, uh, another reason I’ve been a big fan of yours,” Bucky grins after telling Steve about the douchebag ex after one of the appointments about a month into their sessions. “Not many role models for gay or bisexual boys out there who are into sports. I mean, I didn’t have anybody to look up to when I was playing ball in high school. You coming out as bi was really brave, Steve.”

Steve just smiles and hugs Bucky, admiring the pleased flush of the other man’s cheeks  as he pulls away.

After that, Steve begins flirting pretty shamelessly with the other man. He has to give Bucky credit; if their situations were reversed he’d have made a move weeks ago, but the guy’s clearly trying to be as professional as possible. It is fun to watch the brunet stammer and blush, though, as he attempts to deal with Steve’s increasingly suggestive comments. And every once in a while, Steve catches the other man off guard, and Bucky flirts back. Those are the best days.

They’ve been seeing each other twice a week for almost two months now, but Steve still can’t quite catch his breath as he invites Bucky out for drinks Saturday night.

“Just want to celebrate how well the recovery process is going so far,” Steve smiles as Bucky blushes. “And you’re a big part of that.”

Bucky’s yes has Steve smiling for the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s nervous as he slides into the booth at a club downtown. He’s got Steve on one side and Steve’s personal trainer, Sam is sitting across from them. They three of them are boxed in by some of Steve’s teammates. Bucky feels out of his element, surrounded by professional ballplayers and the people who inhabit their world. Steve wraps an arm around Bucky, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“Relax,” Steve leans in close so Bucky can hear him, and he just manages to keep from shuddering at the feel of Steve’s breath ghosting across his ear. “We’re just here to have a few drinks and then you and I can bail for something quieter.”

Bucky’s mouth goes a little dry at the look in Steve’s eyes and wonders if this is supposed to be a date. He makes a mental note to try to find out as subtly as possible once they’re alone.

Steve’s teammates are rowdy and kind of brash, but they’re nice guys. They don’t bat an eye at the proximity between Steve and Bucky, and a couple of them ask for Bucky’s card in case they ever need his services. Sam and Bucky spend most of the time chatting about Steve’s recovery and gushing over the progress he’s making.

“I’m not gonna lie, I was a little wary of a non-team massage therapist working on him,” Sam shouts over the music. “But whatever you’re doing is really helping keep him limber. He’s healing incredibly well.”

Bucky shrugs and smiles. “Glad I can help. He’s a good guy and a hell of a ballplayer. Be a shame if he couldn’t get back on the mound.”

Steve’s teammates have an afternoon game the next day that they need to rest for (Steve has to be there too, but he’s got a little more leeway than the guys who are playing), and Sam’s got plans with his girlfriend, so when ten rolls around, Steve and Bucky are on their own.

“You wanna get out of here?” Steve grins, wrapping an arm around Bucky’s waist. His blue eyes are dark, and Bucky’s having some trouble catching his breath.

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “Yeah, I do.”

 

* * *

 

Steve takes Bucky to a little Italian place for deep-dish pizza and gelato. Bucky’s more at ease here, and Steve likes the genuine smile on his face, the relaxed set of the brunet’s shoulders as he leans toward Steve, laughing at some stupid joke he’s made.

“So, uh,” Steve grins, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “I get it if you feel like you have to say no as a professional or whatever, but I’d, uh, really like to take you out sometime, Buck.”

Bucky’s gray eyes widen in shock and Steve laughs at the expression because it really is adorable. Bucky smirks, shaking his head.

“We’re out now,” the brunet quips with a sly grin, and Steve feels his heart rate increase at the intense look in those gorgeous eyes.

“I mean, on a date,” Steve smiles, blushing, and Bucky chuckles.

“Hate to break it to you, Steve,” Bucky grins. “But if you were going for a non-date vibe tonight, you are failing spectacularly.”

Steve barks out a laugh, but it dies in his throat as he feels Bucky’s foot slowly trailing up his calf.

“Well, then,” Steve’s voice is hoarse, and he likes the way Bucky’s eyes darken at the sound of it. “If this is our first date, would it be very presumptuous of me to ask if you’re having a good enough time to come home with me?”

“Probably,” Bucky purrs. “But my answer is yes.”

Bucky doubles over laughing as Steve begins waving to flag their server down for the check, but Steve couldn’t give a shit because this gorgeous man wants to come back to his place, and Steve’s through wasting time.

 

* * *

 

Bucky’s not really sure where that surge of boldness at the pizza place came from, but as Steve tugs Bucky’s shirt over his head and begins kissing his way down Bucky’s chest, he can’t say he regrets it.

“Watch - oh _fuck -_  watch that shoulder,” Bucky gasps with a giggle as Steve swirls his tongue around a nipple, biting down gently. “Sam’ll kill me if you hurt yourself.”

“Relax, handsome,” Steve chuckles, lips trailing down Bucky’s stomach, hands working open the button and zipper of his jeans. “Nothin’ too strenuous tonight. Besides, you can always give me a massage later. Loosen me up.”

Steve pushes Bucky’s jeans and boxers down, and then Bucky’s biting back a shout as he’s engulfed in the wet heat of Steve’s mouth. Steve tongue against his length is incredible, and Bucky whimpers, hips thrusting forward slightly as Steve pulls off for a moment.

“Don’t hold back,” Steve’s voice is gravelly and raw and _holy fuck_ , Bucky’s going to come way too soon a this rate. “Wanna hear you.”

Bucky nods, breathing hard, and then Steve’s swallowing him back down.

 

* * *

 

Steve is so, _so_ into this man. Bucky’s breathy little moans are intoxicating and the way he calls out Steve’s name as he hollows his cheeks and sucks hard sets the blond’s heart racing.

“Steve,” Bucky moans as he trembles on Steve’s bed, body flush with arousal. “Steve, please, I need more.”

“Tell me what you want,” Steve murmurs as he works his way back up Bucky’s body to his lips. Steve kisses him deeply, reveling in the shiver that rolls through Bucky’s body. “Come on, Buck, tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me,” Bucky moans brokenly as Steve’s fingers circle his cock and begin to stroke. “Steve, _please, I want it so bad._ ”

“Bucky,” Steve breathes as he fumbles in the top drawer of his bedside table for lube and a condom. “You sure? I want you, but I want you to be sure.”

“I’ve been thinking about fucking you since your first appointment, Steve, I’m sure,” Bucky laughs breathlessly as he leans up to kiss Steve. “Now get movin’. I’m not a patient catcher.”

Steve gasps out a laugh as he coats his fingers with lube and begins to work the brunet open. “God, I like you.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky can’t help the cry the escapes his lips as Steve slides into him, strong hands gripping Bucky’s thighs so that he can fuck into him. Bucky is tight and warm around him, and Steve’s a little dizzy because he’s fucked a fair few people at this stage of the game, but it’s never felt quite like this before.

“Jesus, Buck,” Steve pants as he thrusts forward, and Bucky screams as the blond grazes his prostate. “So fuckin’ good, babe.”

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, hands twisting into Steve’s sheets. “Harder. _Please_.”

“Whatever you want,” Steve grins as he snaps his hips forward, setting a quicker, rougher pace. Bucky meets every thrust, moaning and whimpering at the feel of Steve inside him. He groans as Steve wraps a hand around his cock and begins to stroke in time with the motion of his hips.

“Not,” Bucky whines. “Not gonna last. _Fuck,_ Steve, gettin’ close.”

“Me too,” Steve pants, leaning down for a sloppy kiss that’s mostly teeth and tongue, but Bucky doesn’t give a fuck. He can’t remember the last time somebody fucked him like this and his body is singing with pleasure as Steve pounds into him. The blond changes the angle, and Bucky’s right on the edge a few minutes later.

“Steve,” Bucky groans, back arching as Steve’s thrusts grow increasingly erratic. “Gonna come, _oh god, Steve.”_

“Come on, Bucky,” Steve breathes, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, and then Bucky’s spilling his release over Steve’s hand and onto his stomach, his vision whiting out for a moment as he shouts Steve’s name. Steve follows him with a soft, breathy _“Bucky,”_ and a shudder.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Steve pants, looking over at the wrecked brunet beside him with a smile. Bucky’s hair is a disgrace and his plush, sinful lips are kiss-swollen and Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more beautiful in his whole life. “Is it too presumptuous to ask you if you wanna go out again?”

“After that?” Bucky laughs, grabbing some tissues from the box Steve offers him and cleaning himself up. “Fuck no, it’s not presumptuous. Steve, I’d love to keep seeing you like this. On one condition.”

“And what’s that?” Steve asks, leaning down to kiss Bucky’s nose. Bucky giggles, chasing his lips and kissing Steve properly.

“You have to promise to behave when I’m working on you,” Bucky smiles, but his eyes are solemn. “Your massage therapy sessions are _only_ therapy sessions. I want to see you back on that mound.”

“Ok, boss,” Steve chuckles, pulling Bucky close. The brunet snuggles into his side, throwing an arm across Steve’s waist and kissing his neck. “Whatever you say.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Natasha smirks as she meets Bucky outside Wrigley field the next day. “I guess your plan to be a professional failed miserably. What’d you do to get us box seats, you naughty boy?”

“Shut up and take your fuckin’ ticket,” Bucky snarks, handing it over. “Steve’s tryin’ to do somethin’ nice and you have to make it sound like I’m a damn prostitute.”

“So, you’re saying you didn’t have sex with him?” Natasha grins. “Because you have that just-fucked glow about you, so I just thought-”

“Oh my god,” Bucky hisses, pushing his friend toward the entrance. “Would you just - yes, all right? We slept together and we’re gonna go out again. That what you wanted to hear?”

“Yes,” Natasha giggles. “Now come on, Steve said he’d visit us before the game. You don’t want to keep him waiting now, do you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep the lovesick smile off his face, and Natasha couldn’t help laughing at him if she tried. Bucky glares at her.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha apologizes with a soft smile once she’s calmed down. “I’m honestly just really happy, Buck. You deserve a good guy, and Steve’s great. I have a good feeling about you two.”

Natasha loves the way her friend’s gray eyes soften at that. “Me too, Tasha. Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You're welcome to follow me or submit your own requests [here](http://emphasisonem.tumblr.com/).


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